


The New Kid

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Humor, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: I just saw Spider-Man: Into the Spider Verse, and my first thought was "oh man, I need the AU where Miles Morales is in the MCU and gangs up with Stucky to rib Peter Parker about Brooklyn vs. Queens," but this came out instead. Because let's face it, Manhattan is more fun to make fun of. Just a little snippet of a meeting, highly handwavy about any and all canons.





	The New Kid

“Parker. What did I tell you about bringing friends around the compound? This is a training ground and R&D facility, not a sleepover camp.”

“I know, Mr. Stark, and Ned is _really_ sorry about the damage to your prototype, but Miles is like me. He’s got spidey powers. And nobody else knows, so… he needs the hookup.”

“The hookup?” Tony Stark gives Miles a very critical look, and Miles is very tempted to dislike the man immediately. He’s met miniature versions of this guy at school, and he’s not impressed. Stark wears a navy blazer over a t-shirt, jeans, the kind of stuff that’s supposed to look casual but probably cost a few grand even without the shoes. He leans against the kitchen island (Peter’s brought Miles to a big, open common area, less what he’d expect from a superhero compound and more like an average rich guy’s living space) with one hip cocked, like a GQ photographer might pop out any moment, and the intensity of his stare is unnerving.

“Yeah, you know… a suit?” Miles tries. “Like Peter’s? So I can be anonymous.”

“Hang on, now, I don’t outfit just anybody. Do you have a name, even? Spider-Man 2.0? The Other Spider Man?”

“Why do I gotta be the Other, then?” Miles counters, because yeah, he immediately wants to fuck with this guy. “Is that a race thing?”

“What? _No_!” Stark backpedals. “I just, he was here first, so…” Miles keeps his most unimpressed poker face in place, but at the other end of the island, Sam Wilson catches his eye and smirks.

“You gotta admit, that’s cold, man,” the Falcon offers. “Kid should at least get his own name.”

“Fine, sure, yes, agreed, so what’s your name, then?” Stark looks at him expectantly.

Miles finally smiles a bit and shakes his head. “Just… Miles is fine.”

“Miles, right. That’ll look great on a poster. So, you need a suit. Lab space near the kid, too, or…?”

“Nah, that’s not really my thing.” Miles may be good in school, but even from the brief conversations they’ve had since Miles cornered him on a rooftop in Queens and asked for help figuring out his powers, he gets that Peter Parker is way beyond his level when it comes to STEM.

“What _is_ your thing, then?”

Miles just gives him a shrug. “Besides getting inconveniently stuck to walls? Art, I guess.”

“Well, can’t help you there. You might wanna talk to Grandpa, though,” Stark suggests with an irreverent gesture towards a sectional sofa in the middle of the space behind Miles. Miles turns and tries not to stare as a familiar man gets to his feet and approaches the group of them.

“What kind of art do you do, son?”

“Uh… not the kind of art Captain _America_ approves of,” Miles mutters, before he thinks that it probably sounds like he draws furry porn or something. Cap just laughs, though, and offers him a hand.

“I don’t know, you might be surprised. Steve Rogers.”

“Miles Morales.” At least Steve’s handshake isn’t annoyingly macho firm, and his expression remains warm. “I… have some sketches, actually.” Miles digs into his backpack, pulls out a sketchbook and flips past some of his ideas for future street pieces to a page where the final designs he started for his own Spider suit live, like Peter’s but in black and red, and with some stylistic tweaks. Steve grins at the page and hands the book over to Tony.

“So where are you from, Miles?”

“Greenpoint, but we live in Bed-Stuy now.”

“Brooklyn!” the other man on the sofa cheers, and comes up next to Steve to offer Miles his hand.

“Oh, great, just what we need, another for _your_ team,” Stark groans as his eyes scan Miles’s drawings.

“Shut up, Manhattan.” The man pauses a bit, then glances toward the kitchen area. “Sorry, Sam.” His grin, though, doesn’t look very apologetic.

“Dude, Harlem.” Wilson points to his own chest, then accusingly at Stark. “Upper East Side. How many times I gotta tell you, that is not the same.”

“I’m from Cali _fornia_!” Stark exclaims, throwing his free hand up in exasperation before walking off without another word, taking the sketchbook hostage. Miles stares after him and wonders if he’s going to get either a suit or his drawings back.

“Asshole was born in Manhattan,” the-as-of-yet unnamed brunette insists, running a hand through his shampoo commercial hair. “I’ve seen his file.”

“O-kaay. Is he always, uh….” Miles gestures vaguely to the space Stark just occupied.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a tone of fond exasperation, as Wilson nods emphatically from the island. “You get used to it.”


End file.
